God Hand
by holographic
Summary: 35 word challenge : FE 9 & 10-centric. Within each word lies a story of two people, a tale waiting to be told. There is one word it comes back to, and only one thing that holds it together. chapter 5 : 'pay the price', ikeXranulf.
1. a smile and a color

**title: **a smile and a color

**word: **introduction

**pairing: **IkeMicaiah

**notes: **I decided to start with them, because… they are probably the most interesting couple to me. xD I didn't think they were popular, and I was relieved to find they actually aren't. It's nice to be refreshing.

But, um, as a note for the whole series, they aren't connected to each other unless other couples are specifically mentioned in them. So please consider each drabble to be its own one-shot. u__u Thank you.

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**i.**

When she first met him, she thought he, as the general of the army, would be someone violent; someone who would push smaller people out of his way without a care. When she heard he was the great Ike that Sothe spoke so often of, she grew annoyed, but when she saw a smile flicker across his face, a relieved smile, she was surprised. This man was someone kind, someone who would go out of his way to protect everyone. He was someone who could accept someone like her.

His face was usually stoic and carved from sun-kissed marble rock. Micaiah caught her eyes wandering to him, trying to find him, as she thought of Daein and of home. When she thought of safety, she had always thought of Sothe, but what now?

She thought of blue. The refuge of the sky, and the haven of his eyes. Blue was the color of justice, of freedom, the color of righteousness and the color of royalty, passion. It was everything, and the twilight as well. Yune was blue, a peaceful color meant to promote tranquility.

They didn't speak often, and when they did, it was only of war. She could only remember one time when they had a normal conversation, but he had been awkward and out-of-place.

_Why, _she thought at that moment, _He's just a child in a grown up's body._

Somehow, realizing that simply made him endearing to her. It was something it the way he cleared his throat, rubbed his neck and spoke without thinking; a charm in the way he looked away, or shifted uncomfortably. Or maybe it was just how much it felt like she was meeting Sothe all over again. It had all just started with their introduction after Ashera had frozen the word. Just a simple greeting, and exchange of names and distrust as their armies watched. It was just something about the small upwards twitch of his lips, and the pink that tinged her cheeks.

That's really all it was. A small smile, a few words, and a color spreading across her cheeks. It wasn't affection and it wasn't love. It was just a smile and a 'hello'.

_But a smile means so much, doesn't it?_ She thought, looking at the back of his head after dinner as he talked quietly with Soren and Titania. _It could mean everything._

He felt her gaze and the blue caught her eyes. For only a second he allowed her to hold his eyes, before his lips twitched upwards once more and he turned back to his second-in-command and his tactician. The color touched her cheeks like a sunset and she stood, leaving quickly.

It was just a smile and a color. It wasn't a feeling and it wasn't mutual. It was just an introduction; a strained hello. It was just that it had turned into this, a game of blue and pink, and if it was going to be like this, it was as if Micaiah had turned her '_hello_' into an '_i love you'_.

But that wasn't it: it was only a smile and a color. A flash of blue and a flood of pink. It was just a hello.

Nothing more.


	2. of death, philosophy and guidance

**title: **of death, philosophy and guidance.

**word: **love.

**pairing: **one-sided TitaniaGreil, slight TitaniaIke.

**notes: **Um… because I don't think I can write about love without making it sad. =__=; I kind of fail like that. But, Titania is one of my favorite characters, so yeah. I also like pushing the boundaries, and seeing exactly where it is that bonds of something like family or friendship turn into bonds of love: where exactly does one start? Where does one end? Is there really any difference? Things like that.

Also, I kind of played on the fact that maybe Titania can't let go of Greil, and tries to see him in Ike? I'm not sure…

So please enjoy this. I'll do my best, but I've never delved into Titania's mind before, so… let's see how this goes. o__o; Read on, soldier!

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**ii.**

And she knew from the moment she saw Elena that she was the only one who could hold Greil. She knew when she saw their son that he would grow to be the symbol of their union, and a painful reminder. She knew when she saw that man glowing with pride and joy that she could never come between them, but she also knew she would always smile at them from the other side of the table, an extended arm of the familial warmth in front of her. Someone for them—for him—to run to when he needed support, someone to watch the children, to watch his back, and someone to take charge when he was gone. She was that woman.

And perhaps he did it because he knew how she loved him. Perhaps he had known all along, and his trust was the only way he could think to repay her. She didn't mind, however; his trust was more than enough. It was more than she had ever dreamed of. But she loved him, and even though it was more than she had hoped for, it was still not enough.

That's when when Elena died, she wept, yes, but she also felt relieved. Somewhere, deep in the pit of her soul, everything she kept locked up was crying out with unbridled joy. It was terrifying, but something in her celebrated this death as a rebirth, an opportunity. And yet, he grew further from her—he trusted her still, giving her her company slowly, little by little, and she knew there was something he couldn't escape. But she loved him enough that she didn't question him. Her love turned her away from the shadow closing in on him and it covered her ears. Adoration blinded her to the blood that fell on his son's shoulders and the blood Ike dipped his hands into to carry the man back through the rain. Worship covered her mouth when she wanted to speak, tell someone of her feelings: it was pride and idolization that grabbed her vocal chords and cut off sound.

And worship was her downfall. It blinded, gagged, bound and trapped her in a love that couldn't see the man in front of her as human, but only as someone akin to a god, and that killed him. His son looked into her eyes as she thought this and the blue was piercing and strong, but she saw the tears shaking in his eyes and hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder.

He turned away and took a breath, and Titania wondered to herself: _where exactly is it that one person stops and one begins?_

For, to her, they seemed in this moment to be the same person, down to the very last personality quirk. She dropped her hand and looked at the young back, broad for someone his age and surprisingly strong, and she felt him grow farther and farther away. As Titania watched, he walked a path she couldn't see, dark and lonely, but didn't say anything.

She eventually looked away, thinking of his father and her love for the dead man and wondered again exactly where it was that family started and love began: surely, it wasn't just black and white, but instead a grayscale. If she thought like that, she felt that perhaps she would be able to stand the familiar hands pushing her face away from the back that grew ever smaller in the black of their futures.

If this was motherly, then she could think that she simply didn't want to interfere. Let him live his own life. But if this was love, then it would simply be her turning her face away so she didn't have to lose Greil a second time.


	3. lifeblood

**title: **lifeblood

**word: **light.

**pairing: **one-sided MicaiahPelleas, SotheMicaiah.

**notes: **Um… Micaiah was just an obvious choice for this. .~. For me, since I enjoy writing her and Pelleas is kind of similar to her (butactuallynotreallylulz), so… I don't know. I like the wimpy king. xD

So, yeah. Enjoy!

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**iii.**

She personified the tome she carried under her arm. She was hope and life, packaged in the ageless body with a smile: the only person he could trust fully with even his life. Even if she refused his request, he would close his eyes and pretend it was her guiding the knife into his body gently, a soft intrusion of silver and the spilling of lifeblood.

But she protested and fought him, her eyes burning holes into his robes and smoldering gold on his wrists and his skin. He dropped the request, and instead continued to try and catch her eyes, like the wildflowers in the mountains around the Keep, and the sands of the desert; like the hair of Rafiel and the other herons. Her hair and eyes caught the sunlight and flung it around the room she stood like a halo. Everyone looked at her small body, proud and straight, loving and righteous. Pelleas shrunk back into the tapestries compared to her, and yet she smiled at him and held out her hand.

_Come, greet your people. They will love you, I'm sure._

Even when she found he wasn't the true king, she wouldn't leave him. He saw it as she looked at him, troubled, and he smiled sheepishly. She seemed to find her solution. He began as a member of her court and her advisor the next day. Despite his protests, Micaiah waved her hand and laughed, dismissing his worries without a care.

As a queen, there was no one more adored, and as a person, there was no one more kind. As a woman, there was no one more beautiful. An angel in her own right, Micaiah looked at him as a mother might, putting her hands on his cheeks lightly before turning back to Sothe. When she looked at her king, there was always something in their faces Pelleas knew he would always lack. They glowed with an internal sort of light and he would move inside himself and hold his own tome to his chest.

Surely, the darkness suited him? A light like Micaiah's could never be outshined, and even if he tried, there was no way he could shine. He was an object coated in tar. He would be trapped in the dark forever. However, when the light grows, the shadow is always darker, growing bigger as people don't watch. It relieves him, somehow, to think that the shadow is him—it must be—and finds hope in the smiles she gives him, a hope that dies when they welcome a child to the world with a joyous light that could only be her mother's.

Pelleas would have hoped he could retreat into his sanctuary, leave the light behind and emerge to never think of it again, but Micaiah requests him to come. He makes haste, as one should, and when he enters, she smiles as Sothe sits beside her, looking at the child, nothing more than a bundle, and seems gentle. He bows before them and Micaiah draws him forward to greet the child to the world as she wanted him to. Pelleas would have thought that someone such as himself would hate the child: it had taken the hope he had for ever being with the light, but he instead found his heart warmed.

The child was sleeping, but sneezed suddenly. Micaiah laughed and Sothe smiled, Pelleas watched with wonder as the child opened her eyes and stared at him with the same eyes as her parents, light-filled eyes with an angel's kiss. He couldn't find it in him to be upset and looked at Micaiah with a smile of his own. The child reached out a hand, not even the size of an inkwell's bottom, and took Pelleas' finger, and for once, he felt that perhaps he could share in the light that the three of them shed.

And yet, perhaps it is simply a nice dying dream. He smiles slightly as his legs give out from under his weakening body, and falls into her arms as the red liquid spills from him faster than he expected. She is tortured by her own choice now, and he can hear an echo in his head like a scream. But the light only shines for so long, doesn't it?

His smile turns bitter and he lowers his head. _It's simply a temporary good-bye,_ he says to himself. _One day I will have enough light to clear the blood of this deed and we will be happy. Surely, _he thinks,_ surely, even someone like me deserves to be happy._ With his life, the thought flows out of him onto the floor. Nothing is the last thing he sees, and he embraces it wholly: _It's only a short good-bye._


	4. flicker

**title: **flicker.

**word: **dark.

**pairing: **slight one-sided IkeSoren, slight IkeMia, SorenMia.

**notes: **I'm sorry if it's not good, I just can't stand IkeSoren. .__. I think I'm just going to focus on Soren in general in this thing, but there will be SOME IkeSoren, since I'm nice. But mostly Soren, and SorenMia. Since I love that little mage. Even if he is kind of… pretty. Very, very pretty. u ~u;

I also love Mia, and I haven't seen… like, anything with MiaSoren. It's kind of weird, since it's something that I thought of immediately. xD;

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**iv.**

There was no use in waiting for something that wouldn't come: namely, a miracle. So he never bothered in chasing after the blue-haired general, and instead turned his attention to more profitable things, like strategies they would use or the finances of the group as they stood. Years wore on and it continued this way, with Soren living in the dark and writing with only his candle and the scratching of his pen. It was only rarely that he was bothered, and the only people he could stand doing the bothering were Ike or someone quiet.

Mia most certainly did not qualify as either Ike or someone quiet. She was, in fact, quite the opposite. Soren was actually quite irritated by her presence in his life, when she invited herself in and sat on his desk, rustling papers and causing the candle's flame to flicker as she did so. Her visits could be interesting enough, he supposed, if he really thought about it. She usually brought interesting news of far off towns they hadn't had the chance to visit, a fact of which he was appreciative, as it would help to have information if there was ever a job to take there.

And although Soren hated to admit it to himself, her presence was also something of a comfort, even more so than Ike nowadays. Her being there reminded him of the days he could actually be useful to everyone, working as a tactician and fighting beside them. Mia brought back days he could have spent beside his general. They only talked of war and things, yes, but simply being close enough to smell leather and training was wonderful to the dark haired mage. Memories of that kind were the only reason he didn't push Mia out of the room as her voice sailed across the stones.

He began to notice a slight pattern in her visits: she seemed to try and visit almost every two months, or three. Soren almost grew accustomed to, after years of this, having her on the desk, talking and swinging her legs. One year, she didn't show up for the whole year. Mist fretted and Rolf moped; Shinon remarked that it was probably a good thing, but even he seemed to be slightly concerned. Soren said nothing and went back to his room. Three years passed this way, and as the fourth started, they were beginning to put Mia to the back of their minds amidst all the work, but Soren's desk, if he focused, still smelled like her. There were just slight wisps of the scent, and suddenly she showed up one day, cloaked and older, half-dead and smiling tiredly.

Something had changed. She didn't hop on his desk or even just throw the door open. Mia simply slipped in and sat on his bed and waiting until he finally turned to look at her. There was simply a silence, and he saw the bags under her eyes. She said she had been in far off lands, getting as much of an adventure as she could: it was, essentially, the same thing Ike had done after the reconstruction, but when he asked if she had been looking for him, she smiled sadly and told him she couldn't find him, or any word of him. Soren's eyes focused only on hers and he grew stiff.

_So then, is he dead or not? _

Mia only shrugged, with the sad smile still painting her face as a tragic heroine who had lost her Prince Charming. Soren said nothing, but felt her reach out and take both of his hands in her own which had grown rough after all this time, tough and callused, like the hands the mage remembered Ike having. She said she hadn't found anything; he had just disappeared. _Knowing Ike,_ she said, _he's probably just being a hermit somewhere to get away from his own fame for awhile. He just… hid too well._

Soren nodded, curtly, but didn't turn back to his papers. Somehow, the feel of her hands was comforting. It was almost like being a child again… but then, that's simply how being with Mia felt. He lifted his eyes from their hands and looked into the sea-mirror eyes in front of him. They showed a dark sort of understanding, and he leaned forward slightly. Mia never spoke and never looked away, but met him as touched his lips with her own softly. It wasn't like love and it wasn't like affection. It was just an affirmation of being alive as Ike's presence flickered, ready to go out at any moment.


	5. pay the price

**title:** pay the price.

**word:** seeking solace.

**pairing:** IkeRanulf

**notes:** Ack. I sat staring at the screen for this, trying to decide who to love on this time. o__o;

LOL INNUENDOS. I ROVE DEM. 8U But even though it's funny, it ends on kind of a… mysterious note, I guess. So it's still a more serious chapter once you get past the lightheartedness. = x=

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**v.**

A sigh escaped the cat's lips as he watched the lion rant about something. He interjected with a "mmhm" or an "uh-huh" every once and awhile, but he didn't say anything to stop the future king's tirade. Blue ears twitched in slight annoyance as he turned and looked at the tent flap, drumming his fingers with another "Mmmmhm", attempting to make it obvious that he was long since tired of the flow of words. Somehow, Skrimir understood, and shut up for a moment, slightly indignant, and straightened up. Ranulf pretended to think it was because he was dismissing him, and darted through the tent flap, finally freed from the mundane morning task.

Stretching, the cat went to his own tent to look at some things, only to find Lyre and Kyza outside arguing. With a heavy sigh, he pushed them apart and entered his tent, trying to ignore them as well. Lyre seemed to infuriate the stuffy tiger by sticking her tongue out at him behind Ranulf's head—_do they really think I can't see?_—and Kyza was fuming, huffing and puffing, like he was trying to think of something to retort. The female flounced into the blue cat's tent and smiled cheerfully, saluting him and saying good morning. Kyza entered almost immediately to do the same, much to the girl's disgust. Ranulf forced a tired smile onto his face and nodded at them both, dismissing them. Really, he didn't hate them or anything like that, but wouldn't anyone want just some peace and quiet sometimes?

"It's not even noon, and you look exhausted." A familiar, low but not deep voice met his ears pleasantly, and Ike pushed back the flap of the tent, looking around before he looked at Ranulf with a bit of sympathy. The cat actually smiled, still a tired smile, but he relaxed and sat back in his chair.

"Well, between Lyre, Kyza and Skrimir, I think I'm lucky to just be tired," Ranulf grinned, "And not just dead."

"If you don't relax, you'll drive yourself into an early grave." A slight smile twitched on Ike's lips as well, as he stood on the other side of the cat's desk, looking down at him.

"An early grave for me would still be around two hundred years old. It might be nice." Ranulf joked, his grin widening as he stood up and walked around to the front of the desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms. "Anyway, what can I do you for?"

"Nothing, really. I just figured I should stop in and say hi." Ike looked around the tent again and then met the mismatched eyes of his friend, and his lips quirked upwards again. "And to ask if you'd like to have a round, but you seem like you might be too tired to handle it."

"Try me." Ranulf leaned towards the general as his eyes glinted sharply. "You'll be surprised."

Ike allowed the twitch to grow into a real smile, finally, and leaned forward a bit himself, "I'm not going to go easy on you just because you get tired. You're going to have to finish if we do this."

"Don't I always finish? You'll be satisfied, Ike, trust me."

"I'm never fully satisfied, you know that. But come on, I'm getting impatient."

Outside the tent, Lyre was grinning at Kyza wickedly.

"I _told _you there was something going on between them."

Kyza said nothing, but looked away. The two other men exited the tent and Ranulf looked back at the orange haired cat making fun of the tiger and shook his head, hoping Kyza wouldn't finally lose his temper. As Ike and he headed to find a field where they could have their practice match, Ranulf strained his ears to hear what they were saying.

"…But Ranulf and Ike? I would hope that Ranulf has more sense than that!"

"Oh, come on, Kyza, you old windbag! I think it's kinda funny, and pretty cute. I mean, I don't mind losing to Ike."

"Lyre, it's illegal!"

"Stuff it! Geez, live a little, why don't you?"

Their voices faded out of his range and Ranulf couldn't help but snort softly. Ike looked at him, but didn't ask, and they continued on their way. Ranulf knew better than to get involved with a beorc, that much was for sure, and most certainly not a beorc as famous as Ike. That would almost be suicide. But there was something there when he looked into the general's face, a kind of affection Ranulf didn't normally see. Of course, it was mutual, but it was nothing like love, or whatever it was Lyre had thought. They were friends, and that was all.

Ranulf let Ike come at him to get him pumped enough to transform, and suddenly Ike's sword went past him—on purpose. Ike's hand rested on his shoulder and his sword arm dropped as he looked at Ranulf for only a second and then leaned down and kissed him, pressing his lips against the cat's for a moment before Ranulf tilted his head slightly. They stayed like that for a minute and then Ike pulled away and they were silent for a second, catching their breath, and then they continued.

But then, this happened every time they did this. Stolen kisses and mischievous words were as far as they would go; that was as far as they would allow. They were friends, they said, even to each other. _Just friends who kiss._ That's all it was: Ike was his shelter, his solace, his comfort, and his medicine on days like this, like a good friend should be. Ranulf never thought about it more than that. It was the price for seeking solace, he thought, and nothing more.


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